


Slipping Into Something More Comfortable

by Ukthxbye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Common Cold, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote something fluffy get off my back, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Molly Hooper has a cold and Sherlock has decided to be her caregiver for the day.





	Slipping Into Something More Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Juldooz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juldooz/gifts).



“You have a cold, Molly,”

 

“I’m fine,” she sniffled. And then proceeded to sneeze five times with a cough to follow.

 

“No, you are not. Home,” he commanded, turning her from the direction of her office, with a hand on her back directing her path.

 

“Sherlock really...”

 

“Don’t try it. You’re going home.”

 

Too weary to argue, she walked with him outside, texting her superior. She fell half asleep in the cab, leaned against the window its coolness made her headache lessen.

 

“Thank you, Sherlock, I think I can manage now,” she managed, struggling for her keys in her pocket at her door.

 

He reached around her, used his own to open the door and ushered her inside and to the sofa. He pushed her shoulders down, and she complied, sinking into the comfort of being home.

Shrugging his coat off and then his suit jacket, he hung them near her door and strode to her kitchen without a word.

 

Loud rifling through her pantry and refrigerator and a loud grunt were all she heard before he came around back into the sitting room, exasperation evident.

 

“It seems you and I have much in common.”

 

“How?” she asked, dabbing her nose with a new tissue.

 

He rolled his eyes for a moment but it was not at the question. “Neither of us believe in the concept of keeping actual food in our homes. Though yours is bereft of spare parts for experiments which would have helped with the eventual boredom.”

 

She pulled her chin into her neck, confused, “I don’t do those things at home”

 

“But I am staying here to help and eventually you’ll sleep and I’ll get bored.”

 

“No you don’t have to stay, Sher--er...achoo!”

 

“Mmmhhmm”  is all he answered. “I am going to the chemist, I’ll be back”

 

“No I ‘ate how mets make pheel,” she murmured out with a very stuffy nose, before blowing it loudly.

 

“No matter. You need them.  Be back in a few,” he smiled as he slipped on his coat and stepped out her door.

 

She scrolled social media her phone for while waiting for him. She wondered why this was longer than just a trip to the chemist. She almost started looking up delivery for food, quite sure he got caught on a case. But she had switched over to Youtube and was watching funny cat videos when she heard the key in her door.

 

He placed an armload of items on the counter and she eased up off the sofa to look at his haul.

Boots meds in one bag that she rummaged through.

 

As stuffy as her nose was, a wonderful smell permeated it as he began opening containers. “Pho. Best cold cure I know,” he grinned as he searched for bowls in her cabinet. He found two large glass ones and she was too hungry and exhausted to inform him they were mixing bowls. Corner of her lips curled, watching him carefully assemble the soup and noodles and meat. He added so much chili sauce to the bowls she paused.

 

“Um I like spicy but--”

 

“It will clear your head, its worth the pain I promise,” he chuckled, setting a bowl of steaming pho in front of her.

 

“Sit, eat, now,” he directed, setting his own bowl beside hers.

 

“Water?”

 

“Yes, good idea” He gets them both a large glass of water.

 

They sat in quiet, slurping their soup and gulping water to quench the fire. She would have stuffed a tissue up her nose if she was by herself but decided against it in his presence. Her nose ran constantly but he didn’t seem to notice. He typed on his phone while slurping up a noodle.

 

“If you need to, you know, you got a case or anything…” she spoke softly, “I’ll be good, really”

 

“I can solve these from my phone, they are barely a 4,” he sniffed.

 

She swallowed hard, asking “Why are you doing this?”

 

He cocked his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “We are friends,” he breathed out quickly and then tipped his bowl up to drink the last of his broth.

She didn’t look at him but smiled to herself as she finished the last of hers. Her head felt much clearer and she could breathe out one side of her nose at least.

 

He moved to the sofa, slipping his shoes off. “I am here for the day to make sure you get well,” he grinned.

 

One part of her logical brain thought he wanted a favor but the weary part of her mind accepted maybe he is just being nice for once and also maybe he is a bit lonely today. She knows John is on holiday after all.

 

“I’m going to get into something more comfortable, “ she advised, then realized too late the typical nature of those words as her cheeks coloured. “I MEAN... just some comfy, baggy pyjamas...and a robe probably.”  


He appeared to take no notice of the slip, his face remained neutral.

 

“I wish I could join you,” he started, and added quickly “With the comfy clothes that is, of course.”

 

She turned her head to hide her awkward smirk. “I think you have a pair of pyjamas still here actually.”

 

“Ah”

 

“I’ll bring them in here for you if you want to change...that is if you are staying tonight.” She kept her head turned away, emptying her pockets onto the side table near her as an excuse not look at him.

 

“That may be the plan yes. We’ll see how you feel.”

 

She nodded and retreated to her room.

 

She found her favorite pajama bottoms and an old well-worn uni t-shirt. Big fuzzy dressing gown soothed her as the symptoms started to come back. She shuffled back to the couch, his neatly folded pyjamas in hand.

 

She flopped into her usual spot.

He was standing the kitchen, preparing tea and a fresh glass of water.

 

“Here drink this, and take these pills, “ he advised, handing her the water while setting down her tea.

  


She watched his pause, hand on the pyjamas, before he grabbed them up and went down the hall without a word, she presumed to change. She turned on the telly and found the channel she always looked for when she was sick.

 

 _Well, this is a helluva thing,_ she thought to herself. If she had a fever, she would assume this was all a hallucination, a fevered dream. But she knew the warmth she felt as he returned to join her on the sofa was not virally provoked.

 

Her robe suddenly became too toasty as he sat near her.

 

“I don’t want to make you sick, Sherlock,” she attempted to warn without conveying her awareness of his nearness.

 

He rolled his eyes a bit and gave her a side glance “I am already exposed and you know this. Hardly worth worrying about now.”

 

She felt her head start to ache again and closing her eyes, she laid her head against the back of the sofa near his shoulder  

 

He stared in silence at the television for a few moments, arms folded.

 

“Is this really what you want to watch?”

 

She cracked an eye open, searching his face for a moment before answering.

 

“I had a flatmate in uni from Mexico. We both got the flu one week and took care of each other. We found a channel showing telenovelas and just watched them the whole time we were sick.”

 

She shrugged, “Since then I like to watch them when I don’t feel good.”

 

“It's the same drivel as our own television, only more colors and a different language”

 

“Mmhmm still like it anyway,” she murmured, the medicine starting to take its effect and ease her headache.

 

Soon she was asleep.

 

Her head shifted to his shoulder and in her sleep she settled into it, her hand landing near his. She snored softly but that was to be expected, and he ignored it.

 

He stiffened at the contact when her head fell into his arm, but relaxed letting her cuddle up close with no protest.

 

He wanted to throw his arms up that the detective in the show still has not solved the murder after an hour but he stayed still to let her sleep. But soon his arm became tingly and as he shifted he forgot to make sure she stayed upright. Her head slid down his arm and before he could catch her, she shifted in her sleep.

 

Now her head was laying on his thigh, and her hand on his knee. He froze in place, unsure whether to move over and let her head fall to the sofa. But he was trying to keep up with the story as well. He grabbed the pillow next to him and slipped it under her head instead, she seemed settled and sleeping peacefully. He knew this was the best medicine, despite the brief moment of thoughts and sentiment he felt watching her laying there.

 

And he recorded in his mind every millimeter of her face in sleep for his room for her in his mind palace without even realizing it. He pushed away those musings and focused on the inane but distracting storyline on the telly.

 

So there she slept for another hour.

 

His own weariness, or perhaps it was boredom, he found no interest in the repeating storylines. He stared down Molly, sleeping quietly. He followed the compulsion to move her hair from her face, after all, it might bother her in her sleep he reminded himself. He ignored that little quake in his chest as his fingers gently moved the chestnut strands behind her ear. He restrained reaction as she shifted once more in her sleep. He only thought of her comfort, which was a new process he found oddly relieving.

 

He wanted to lay his head down; he had found her sofa quite comfortable before for sleep. But he didn't know what to do with her. _In more than one way,_ he thought to himself. He resigned himself to the position he was in and let his mind slip off into slumber, his head leaned back on the sofa.

 

When she woke for a few minutes late in the night, she wondered if she indeed was feverish.

 

Laying down, her head rested on his arm, and she found her eyes focusing on the gray t-shirt he chose to sleep in. She risked looking up to see his stubbled chin.

 

He was holding her tight to him, and she gulped at the realization her arm was laying across his side rising and falling with his slow breathing.

 

 _When did this happen? Was this the meds?_ She ran her thoughts in circles but she knew he was not sick, he was under no influence. Something unconscious happened. But it felt too good for her to ruin it now.

 

 _Maybe I should have colds more often. Enjoy it and let the morning bring what it brings,_ she reminded herself as she snuggled in his arms, and he returned it in his sleep.

  


**Author's Note:**

> prompt from Juldooz on tumblr
> 
> telenovela, weary, comfort
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote fluff, ok? And I left it fluffy
> 
> mostly because eclecticmuse and Mouse9 yelled at me to leave it alone


End file.
